


Line of Fire

by CatHeights, Maverick



Series: MavCat Productions [2]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-24
Updated: 2001-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick





	Line of Fire

**Chris's POV**

Chris had a sixth sense where Toby was concerned. It never failed to alert him to his lover's presence, and right now, it was telling him Toby was out of the Hole and heading his way. He didn't need any goddamn sixth sense, though, to tell him that Toby was going to be pissed. Nevertheless, he wasn't able to resist calling out, “Beecher,” and hoping Toby might stop. There really wasn't a chance in hell that he would, but fuck, it didn't hurt to try.

He frowned as Toby ignored him and entered their pod. Now what? Calling Toby a bitch had really fucked things up royally. All that time spent regaining Toby's trust and getting Toby just to relax around him, and he had to lose his goddamn temper and find just the right thing to say that would ruin it all. He hadn't really ruined it all, had he? Toby was just mad, right? Shit.

Glancing across the common area, Chris's gaze fell on Said. His frown turned to a scowl. This was all that interfering fuck's fault.

> _You must do something extraordinary for Schillinger. He'll see your gesture for exactly what it is: an act of kindness, reconciliation._

The only act of kindness Schillinger would understand was someone killing him. Vern dead would be an act of kindness to the rest of humanity. Schillinger didn't know how to define kindness. How the fuck would he recognize it?

Chris didn't know what sort of imaginary world Said was vacationing in, but Toby wasn't playing in that world. It was too fucking dangerous to believe this load of shit. Said's mantra of forgiveness and good deeds had almost gotten Toby killed once. No way was he letting that happen again.

The memory of Toby in his arms, bleeding to death, was still far too vivid. Chris remembered the panic he had felt, and the feeling of loss that had tormented him after they had taken Toby away. While he had been locked in alone, his shirt stained with Toby's blood, there had been moments when he had been positive that Toby was dead, lost to him forever. During those moments, he had done something he hadn't in years — prayed. He tried to bargain with God. _Just let Toby live, and I'll stop all the scheming. If he can't forgive me, I'll let him be. I promise. Let him live._

Amazingly, it seemed like someone up there had heard him. Not only had Toby survived, but he had also given him a second chance. At last, Chris had satisfied his yearning to kiss Toby again. He had finally been able to look into Toby's eyes and see desire and love reflected back at him. So, if before they were lovers, the thought of losing Toby had been unbearable, what would it feel like now?

He didn't want to know, and it didn't matter because there was no fucking way he was letting anything happen to Toby. Chris swore that Toby wasn't taking any more of Said's idiotic advice. He also promised himself, though, that he wasn't going to order Toby to listen to him. He should have fuckin' known better. Giving Beecher an order was just askin' to have it thrown back in your face. And could he blame Toby? Nah. He'd talk to Toby, smooth things over, and at some later point, he'd handle Said. No need to deal with Said while Toby was present. Nope, none at all.

Chris knew that smoothing things over with Toby was going to be far from easy, particularly after he had just spent three days in the Hole. All that time alone, with nothing but his anger to keep him company, would mean that Toby was in one fucking, nasty mood. It would probably be days before Toby calmed down, and as much as he'd like to blame Toby's mood on Said, Chris knew it was his own fault. He knew better than anyone that Toby would rather die than be a prag again, and he had played on that fear, pushed Toby's buttons. Why? Well, because he had been angry, frustrated that Toby was trying to use some moral code that just didn't apply in Oz.

Yet, had there been another reason, something that would make him want to lash out at Toby? Fuck. Yeah, there was. He couldn't help it. When Toby had said that most times he wanted to wipe away the past, he had gotten the feeling that if he could, Toby would sprinkle a little faerie dust, and, voila, he would never have had to know Chris Keller. Days later, Chris knew that wasn't what Toby had meant, but if he had meant it, Chris really couldn't have blamed him.

Well, you couldn't change the past; it was time to deal with things. Toby had already spent too much time alone, fuming. Right now, he didn't need another minute to think about just how fucking angry he was. He had to go talk to Beecher. Pushing down the flicker of fear that maybe he had really ruined things, and Toby wouldn't forgive him this time, Chris got up and started to head toward his pod. Halfway to his destination, he heard gunfire.

Chris had always had excellent reflexes, but it took a moment for his mind to process that someone actually had a gun in Oz. He saw that French guy firing, and at first, his instincts said to take cover, but those instincts warred with the ones that told him to get to Toby. Make sure he's safe. There was no indecision. He headed for Toby, keeping himself right in the line of fire.

A bullet struck Chris right beneath his shoulder. He dropped to his knees and then fell forward, calling out, “Oww, Goddammit! Fuck!” Jesus Christ, he should have known to get out of the way. That bastard had shot him. Suddenly, he was being dragged across the floor, and Chris's breath caught as pain shuddered through his body. He screamed in agony.

It hurt so bad that for a moment he couldn't see or hear anything. Then, he thought he heard Toby saying something like “you're gonna be okay.” He winced and released a hissing breath of air as Toby pressed something against the bullet wound. His eyes, blurry with pain, focused on Toby. _What the fuck? He doesn't have a shirt on_. It took a second for him to realize that Toby was using his shirt to stop the bleeding.

Chris felt Toby's thumb brush against his cheek, and he closed his eyes trying to block out the pain by focusing on the comfort of that touch. “Can you talk?” He heard Toby ask.

"Fuck,” Chris groaned. He opened his eyes and met Toby's concerned gaze. “Yeah, I can fucking talk, the bastard didn't shoot me in the mouth.” And how did that motherfucker get a goddamn gun? _Fucking hacks are everywhere when I try to put an arm around Toby, but they let a gun into EmCity. Stupid assholes._

“Why the hell didn't you get the fuck down?” Toby asked. Chris had to swallow twice before he was able to answer. “Didn't have time. I was coming to the pod to talk to you, and the next thing I know that French fuck is spraying bullets. Once he started firing, I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

"I was safe in our pod.”

“Until you grabbed me. Why'd you do that? He could have shot you too.” Why the hell couldn't Toby have just stayed in their pod? Chris took a shaky, painful breath as his mind created images of Toby shot, bleeding just out of his reach.

"Couldn't think about that. I just knew I had to get you out of the line of fire,” Toby said.

“Toby, this is Oz. We're in the line of fire every fucking second of every fucking day.” Christ, what did he have to do to make Toby understand that in Oz you worried about and counted on yourself.

“I know that Chris, but I wasn't gonna just leave you there bleeding on the floor.” If he hadn't known it would hurt like hell to laugh, he would have chuckled at the emphasis Toby put on his name. He could imagine Beecher thinking, okay Chris, I'm not a fucking idiot.

Chris licked his lips, as he gazed at the stubborn expression on Toby's face. His forehead was wrinkled in concern, and Chris tried to reach out a hand to smooth away those wrinkles. His mind sent the message to his hand, but it wasn't responding like it should. He could raise it, but was his hand really shaking like that or was his eyesight just getting blurry again? He tried harder to steady his hand; it didn't work, and he couldn't lift it high enough to reach Toby's face. Toby's free hand grabbed his trembling one, and Chris breathed a sigh of relief.

"So this mean you forgive me?” Chris asked. His voice was starting to sound a bit rough.

"What, pulling you to safety?”

“Yeah.” This had to mean Toby wasn't mad at him anymore, right? Something good had to come out of feeling like someone was burning a hole through your chest.

"What? You got yourself shot so I'd be forced to forgive you.”

“I do what I got to do Beech.” Chris tried to smirk, but he only managed a half-hearted grimace. “And you didn't ... Fuck! This hurts like a motherfucker.” Every time he took a breath, the pain made him feel like it he was going to pass out. Shit, why was he having so much trouble breathing? What had that bullet damaged? A metallic taste filled his mouth, as Chris began to fear that he might die right here in their pod. He needed Toby to answer him, now. Taking small breaths through his mouth, Chris forced out the rest of what he wanted to say. “And you didn't answer my question. Do you forgive me?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Keller, I forgave you for breaking my arms and legs. I would think you'd know I'd forgive you for calling me a bitch. You know, eventually.” Toby smiled at him, and while that smile calmed him a bit, Toby hadn't answered his question completely.

"So this eventually?” Chris asked.

“Seeing you're lying here bleeding on me, yeah I guess I forgive you.”

"Toby, I am truly sorry. You really forgive me and not just because I'm bleeding on ya. I need to know.” Chris tried to squeeze Toby's hand to let him know how badly he needed to hear his answer, but he couldn't feel his hand.

_Why can't I feel my hand in Toby's? I know it's still there. Fuck, and why does it feel like someone is stabbing me each time I breathe?_

“Yes, I forgive you. And why do you need to know?” Toby was shaking his head slightly in exasperation, but Chris didn't care, he had the answer he wanted.

“Don't wanna die with you mad at me,” Chris said. His voice was soft and breathy, each word coming out after a gasp for air.

“You are not going to die.”

“You don't know that Tob ...”

"The fuck I don't. You are not fucking dying on me Keller. You got that? You're not.”

_Can't die. Can't do that to Toby. Oh God, Toby, I'm not sure I gotta choice here_.

"I love you, Toby,” Chris whispered, and then he was alone. Where had Toby gone so quickly? And why had they turned out the lights? Toby must have just left for a moment. He'd be back. Toby wouldn't leave him. Chris drifted for a moment realizing it didn't hurt anymore. The problem was, he couldn't remember why it had hurt in the first place. Maybe Toby would know. He tried to call out for Toby, but his mouth seemed too tired to open. Then, he heard Toby's voice. He sounded scared, desperate. Why? Chris tried to focus on what Toby was saying, but his voice was too far away. He couldn't make it out.

For a moment, Toby's voice got clearer, and Chris heard Toby say, “I won't forgive you if you fucking die on me.” No, Toby had to forgive him. He had to. Panic flared through Chris, and he struggled to find his way out of the darkness. That panic quickly left him, though, and he stopped struggling. Where was he? He didn't know. He just wished he could kiss Toby. Something always seemed to stop him from kissing Toby.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Toby's POV**

_Mother-fucking cunt! Call out Beecher like all is forgiven, like you didn't call me a bitch or grab my arm like I was your prag. I should have hit more than your fucking nose. Cocksucker. I'm nobody's bitch._

Toby opened the door to his pod and walked inside still shaking his head in disbelief and anger. He fell into old patterns as he paced the familiar path from bed to wall and back again.

_Shit, you fucker, you probably believe pussy-bitch Toby will be so in need of human contact that I'll be begging you to fuck me by lights out. Well fuck that, asshole. You can drop fucking dead for all I care._

Toby kicked the chair against the wall, and it fell on its side. As he turned it upright, something from the common area caught his eye. Chris had risen and was walking toward the pod.

_Great, just great. The cunt's gonna get me thrown in the Hole again. Why the hell can't he just.._.

“What the fuck?” Toby said peering out the pod window, hoping that sound he had just heard was not gunfire. _Oh Christ, not another riot. Chris, oh God, where the fuck is Chris?_

Toby stood like stone, stuck in place by fear and worry. In a split second, chaos erupted outside the relative safety of the pod. Tables were being overturned for cover and inmates were scattering like, well like someone was shooting at them. Toby banged on the glass wall of the pod as he saw Chris still walking toward him.

“Get the fuck down Chris,” he yelled through the pod door. Chris did not hear his plea as a bullet ripped into him, and he dropped to his knees and fell forward.

Toby stumbled backward as if the bullet had hit him instead. He steadied himself and rushed out the door toward Chris with no regard for his own well being. It was reflex. He had to get to Chris and get him to safety. _Please be all right, please be all right, please be all right._

Toby called, “Chris” and stepped into the line of fire to quickly pull Chris back toward the pod. Dragging Chris across the floor by his arm and waistband, Toby winced as Chris screamed in agony. “I'm sorry Chris. I had to get you out of the line of fire. You're gonna be ok,” Toby said as he turned Chris onto his back. Toby knelt beside him, trying to avoid Chris's eyes knowing his own had widened in horror. Toby gasped as Chris's white shirt ran red with blood.

_I've got to stop the bleeding. Think Toby, think. Shirt, I can use my shirt._ Toby shed his shirt quickly and folded it in half before placing it over Chris's chest. He leaned down and applied pressure to the wound, and only then could he finally meet Chris's eyes which were now almost black with pain.

As Toby continued to apply pressure, he noted the absence of an exit wound and worried the bullet might have done major damage. _Please be all right, please be all right_. Toby cupped his free hand along Chris's face and gently swept his thumb across his cheek in comfort as he asked, “Can you talk?”

“Fuck!” Chris groaned and looked up into Toby's eyes which shone with concern. “Yeah, I can fucking talk, the bastard didn't shoot me in the mouth.”

Buoyed by Chris's being annoyed but responsive, he asked, “Why the hell didn't you get the fuck down?”

“Didn't have time. I was coming to the pod to talk to you, and the next thing I know that French fuck is spraying bullets. Once he started firing, I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

Toby looked directly into Chris's eyes trying to calm him down. “I was safe in our pod.”

“Until you grabbed me. Why'd you do that? He could have shot you too.”

_He's breathing heavy. Christ, did the bullet hit a lung?_

“Couldn't think about that. I just knew I had to get you out of the line of fire.”

“Toby, this is Oz. We're in the line of fire every fucking second of every fucking day.”

Toby sniffed and forced himself not to roll his eyes. “I know that Chris, but I wasn't gonna just leave you there bleeding on the floor.”

_Who do you think you're kidding Keller? Your ass would have been out the door in a heartbeat to save mine. No matter what else happens, you've proved that to me._

When he saw Chris try to raise his hand, Toby grabbed and squeezed it in reassurance, not really sure whose hand was shaking more.

“So this mean you forgive me?” Toby leaned forward as Chris's voice seemed to be getting weaker.

He smiled weakly at Chris, trying, he was sure unsuccessfully, to convey the sense that everything was going to be fine. “What, pulling you to safety?”

“Yeah.”

Still, he couldn't stop himself from sounding a little huffy as he replied, “Yes, I forgive you.” _Fuck, he looks like he could pass out at any second. Keep talking. You've got to keep him talking._ “And why do you need to know?”

“Don't wanna die with you mad at me.”

“You are not going to die,” Toby said in a tone that left no room for argument.

“You don't know that Tob...”

Toby cut Chris off and made sure he had his attention. Unable to stop the tears that were forming in his eyes, he yelled over the tightness in his throat, “The fuck I don't. You are not fucking dying on me Keller, you got that. You're not.”

_You're not the only one who can give orders, pal. Now please, please listen to me. Don't die, just don't die._

“I love you, Toby.”

Concerned over how much pain each word was causing Chris now, Toby tried to stop him from talking anymore. “Ssh. I know.”

Toby lifted his shirt from the wound and was happy to see that the bleeding had stopped. _Ok, that's a good sign. I'll keep the pressure up just in case._ He then turned his shirt over and reapplied pressure as he twisted to his side to see what was happening outside the pod. He kept hold of Chris's hand like a lifeline.

The SORT Team converged from all sides and drove the shooter up the stairs just like they would corral a spooked animal. There was no place for him to go as he was effectively cornered at the top of the stairs. Toby heard one final shot and then a SORT officer called, “all clear.”

Toby sighed and took a deep breath in relief, turning his attention back to Chris. He released his hand and ran his fingers across Chris's hair. “It's over Chris. It looks like the French fuck just offed himself. Help will be here soon. Just hang on.”

When he received no answer, Toby looked down at Chris to find him unconscious. He could no longer see Chris's chest moving up and down. He felt for a pulse as he forgot how to breathe. He pressed his blunt fingers into Chris's jugular and took a jagged breath when he couldn't find one. He moved his fingers slightly to the left and sighed in relief as he felt the weak but rapid beating of Chris's heart. Still shuddering at the paleness of Chris's skin, he gently tried to rouse Keller. The tears now flowed freely down his face as he tried in desperation to get Chris to answer him. “Chris? Oh shit, Chris,” he said, his voice breaking. “Don't you fucking die on me. You hear me. Don't you fucking die on me.”

He's just in shock. He's gonna be all right, he's gonna be all right. As soon as help gets here, he'll be fine. You know the fucker's just too tough to die. Toby bent forward and gently brushed his lips across Chris's forehead, trying hard not to focus in on how cold and clammy Chris's skin felt to his touch, and whispered in his ear, “I won't forgive you if you fucking die on me.”

Toby raised his head as a SORT officer entered the pod with his gun drawn.

“Stand up and back away,” the C.O. demanded.

Toby, not wanting to stop applying pressure to Chris's wound, did not move.

“What part of back away don't you understand, jerk off. Back the fuck off. Now!”

Toby stood and raised his hands in surrender, and backed up against the wall of the pod. “Sorry Officer, he just lost consciousness. He needs medical attention right away.”

The C.O. lowered his gun and nodded in response. If he noticed the tears running down Toby's face, he didn't mention it. He then said into his radio, “This one's got a pulse, but he's kind of blue. I'd get a stretcher here pronto.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pacing, back and forth and back and forth, Toby watched as the C.O. mopped up blood, Chris's blood, from the common area. He bent down and picked up his own blood soaked shirt from where it sat on the floor since Chris was wheeled out of the pod and the prison was put in lockdown. He shuddered and went weak in the knees, just making it to the chair before he collapsed. Tears streaked down his face, and he shook uncontrollably as shock gave way to reality. He continued to clutch the shirt as he tried to control his breathing.

_I wonder if this is what Chris felt with my blood all over his clothes, all over his hands after Vern shanked me. I wonder if he sat there shaking in solitary not knowing if I was dead or alive._

Toby smiled for the first time since Chris was taken out of the pod. _Knowing Keller, macho prick that he is, he wasn't shaking or crying. But I know damn well he was worried. Guess this makes us blood brothers now, bound together by yet another strand of fate._

Finding needed comfort in that thought, Toby walked to the back of the pod and put his shirt in with the rest of the dirty clothes. _He's gonna be fine. He's got to be fine. Because this fuckhole without him is not an option. Besides, I would know if he was dead, inside I would know._

Toby walked to the sink and placed his hands on either side as he peered into the mirror. _You didn't know with Gen. Oh that's a good idea Toby, bring Gen up at a time like this. Besides, that was different. This is Chris. With Chris I would know. He's fine. He's in the hospital flirting with all the nurses by now._

As he turned on the water and washed his hands, he looked up and saw that his reflection didn't look at all convinced. “He's fine,” Toby said aloud as he shucked his pants and lay down on Chris's bunk. As the lights went out, Toby closed his eyes.

_Ten o'clock, ok only eight more hours until they'll let us out of here. Jesus Christ, eight fucking hours is a lifetime in this place._

Toby turned on his side and hugged Chris's pillow tighter as he tried to stop the tremors that still ran through his body. _I'm a fucking idiot, getting mad at Chris, hitting him, telling myself I wouldn't care if he died._

_Learned the truth on that one today anyway. Ok, stop it Toby, this isn't helping. Calm down. Tomorrow. I'll be able to get news about him tomorrow. Murphy or Sister Pete will know something. Fuck, I'll call Dad if I have to._

Toby rolled onto his back and stared up at the bunk above him. _God, I hope he believed I forgave him. It seemed so important to him. Christ, you would think he would know I would forgive him anything. Anything, but him dying on me._

_Fuck. Goddamn it, I never told him I loved him. Those were his last words to me, and I didn't say it back. Oh Christ, please God, don't let him die thinking I don't love him._

He turned onto his other side wincing slightly as he put his weight on his own recently healed wound. Toby ran his hand across the scar just like Chris had done on New Year's Eve. He found comfort in the memory.

Toby sighed and finally found what little peace would come that night. _He knows I love him, he has to. He'll have a constant reminder of it when he gets back. A scar cut in violence but sealed with love. And tomorrow, I'll get word that he's ok._

“Just hang on until tomorrow,” Toby said out loud not really knowing if he was talking to Chris or himself.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Forgive & Forget](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476691) by [CatHeights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights), [Maverick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick)




End file.
